Boxing Day
by practicing17
Summary: Jasper and James discuss Jasper's most recent problem on the day after Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

Jasper has only been outside about 15 minutes before he feels something soft take his hand.

"Good morning Frosty Caterpillar," a familiar voice chirrups up at him. Sara Alice is beaming, clearly pleased with herself. "I'm to take you to the playground."

"Don't you ever sleep?' Jasper asks her, "you were up until all hours last night." This is partially his fault. She'd found him, heartbroken and gutted, in the Control Room around 11, and in that funny way she had, not really understanding what was going on, refused to leave. He'd carried her, mostly asleep, up to James's rooms after 1:00 when he'd run out of Christmas/caterpillar stories. He realized now that he should have been suspicious when James didn't say anything about it.

"A little, but I got up early. And then Daddy said we should go for a Boxing Day walk, and then he sent me to fetch you to the playground."

"And what if I don't want to go the playground?" Jasper arched one eyebrow.

"I asked that. If you won't come I'm to shout like you're kidnapping me, in my biggest, loudest, outside voice. And then, after Daddy bails you out, we can go to the playground."

Jasper sighs, loudly. "Fine. Lead on."

Sara Alice turns him around and swings his arm companionably. He is aware of other early morning walkers smiling at them, they must make a cute picture to people who don't know. He is the good sport younger uncle, taking the early rising niece for coffee so her hungover parents can have a post-Christmas lie in, a happy sponge for her post-holiday noise. Solitary fathers, undoubtedly trying to build goodwill with exhausted spouses, are sharing conspiratorial smiles, while they tote dozing infants in uncomfortable looking front packs. Jasper is shocked that they aren't turning away, that they can't actually feel the heartbreak emanating off of him.

James Hill stands up from his staked out park bench when his daughter presents him with his distinctly discomforted employee. "Well done, moppet," he says to Sara Alice, acknowledging Jasper with a nod of his head, and handing him a cup of coffee.

"Can I do the monkey bars?" Sara Alice is ready for the off.

"Of course you can," James tells her, "don't break both arms at once." James sits back down and waits for his subordinate to join him.

"You're teaching her reconnaissance skills." Jasper takes a sip of his still hot coffee and it burns a path down his throat.

"Yes, well, she's crap at maths. Maybe MI-6 will be hiring by the time she's done with school."

Jasper snorts, "She can count down 2 decks of cards in under a minute. She's not that crap."

James closes his eyes. He supposes, that where Jasper Frost grew up, teaching children to count cards is looked at in the same light as reviewing catechism questions had been in his house as a kid. "Well then," he says, "she'll have options."

They lapse into silence, both watching Sara Alice navigate the climbing equipment. Jasper breaks the impasse first, "Eleanor told you."

James ignores him. Instead he says, "Christmas dinner was lovely. The Queen was gracious, as ever. We don't need to bother ourselves about her black eye, by the way, in case you were bothered. Assuredly not a security concern" James, being James, was not about to let anyone's black eye go un-investigated, and now finds himself both relieved and decidedly off figgy pudding. The Queen's Christmas day activities put vegetable emoji texts into high relief, but are not, specifically, related to the matter at hand.

James continues, "Like brothers across the country yesterday, Princes Robert and Liam got into a pissing match, fueled no doubt by a combination of childhood resentment and a healthy amount of bourbon." He pauses to take a sip of coffee, wishing it too was fortified with bourbon. "The pink Charlene was a hit. It's my sister-in-law's recipe. I make it for Sara Alice, so she can have something of her Mum's on the holiday table." James meet's Jasper's bloodshot eyes over his coffee cup and keeps going. "The Princess sat thru dinner looking like she'd been run over by a rental lorry. No doubt exhausted from searching the Palace for paper plates. She rallied, though, for the Midnight Speech. You know what she's like. God knows what that cost her." He waits a beat. "How was your Christmas? Had a nice drink with the journalist in the hotel, then?"

Jasper has to catch himself before spitting out a mouthful of coffee. Whatever he's expecting from this playground chat, it's not this.

"You're having me followed. At Christmas?" In the absence of any other response, Jasper is going for indignant.

"Maybe," James answers smoothly. "I am actually not terrible at this job. "

Jasper has no choice but to stick with indignation. "I don't remember signing on to 24 hour surveillance as part of my job description."

James laughs, a true and honest laugh, because this is genuinely funny, and when Jasper isn't a hot mess, he will think it's funny too. "Okay kid, we can do it your way. You want to review the myriad of things you've done, just this past week, mind, that aren't strictly within your job description? Or, would it just be more comfortable for both of us, if you just explain what it is that a skint journo from a newspaper in Las Vegas that almost no one has heard of, has on you. Something big enough that you decided it was worth breaking Eleanor's heart over. On Christmas."

Jasper sets his cup on the ground and threads both hands through his hair. "It's not that complicated," he lies. "We just broke up, that's all."

James quietly gives himself quality points for not calling 'bullocks' – because they are at a playground. "Keep trying," he says, instead, "because even Sara Alice isn't going to buy that."

It's at this point that Jasper realizes that 7-yo Sara Alice didn't buy it 7 hours ago either, and he gives up, because, honestly, he has nothing left. "Fine. Harper, the journalist from Nevada, knows all about my," He takes a deep breath, "all about my past, from before I came here, from before Eleanor… and she's going to write about all of it and Len, and Liam, and really everyone else is going to be crucified." Jasper's eyes get wider, as he realizes that James, being James, might be missing a really crucial point. "You too, probably. I mean, Ted knew mostly – but you know, Ted killed people, and Robert's found out, so it's not like it's that hush-hush, but it's out of order anyway, my being here and your okaying it…." Jasper trails off, recognizing that he's babbling, but not in a position to stop it. He's had the same thoughts, circling around his head for hours. It's something of a relief to say them out loud, although a solution is no closer at hand.

James claps a hand on Jasper's shoulder and wonders, not for the first time, how precisely he has arrived at this place in life. If he'd been told 10 years ago that in a decade he'd have left Scotland Yard and be a single dad to a seven-year-old, he'd have laughed out loud. If that same all knowing soul had also said he'd be the most available grown-up to a pack of under parented millennials, most of whom had some claim on the British crown, well, at a minimum, he'd have kept laughing.

The trick, James knows, from Yard interrogation courses and a child psychology article that Sara Alice's school sent home, was to not immediately start providing answers when one's subject/Year 1 student presents a problem.

"That's a lot to manage," James says neutrally, "You are carrying a lot, on your own." He knows, again from the school newsletter, that this is called 'reflective listening". He can hear the pulse pounding in his left temple and is slightly concerned that it's taking years, at least weeks, off his life.

Now that's he's started, Jasper finds that he cannot really stop. "The press will just destroy her, Eleanor, I mean. I've done what I've done, and that's okay, I have to own that, but it all gets thrown back on her, and that's not okay. I can't ask her to do that. I won't ask her."

"So you didn't," James noted, again, giving himself quality points for not adding "Numpty!". He can see where this is going, and while he appreciates the motivation, is trying not to roll his eyes at the half-arsed execution.

"So you ended things with her because you're trying to protect her? All on your own." More reflective listening, James assumes he's doing it correctly when Jasper nods mutely.

He moves on, "so how did this Harper person find out about you?"

Jasper's hands are back in his hair and his eyes are glued to his shoes. "My Dad told her."

"Your Dad… your father… told her?" James wants to be very clear on this point.

Another deep breath. "Yes. Samantha, you know, Mandy, was pissed off about… well, about a lot of things…". It's James' turn to put his hands in his hair, because he really doesn't want to know what 'a lot of things' might entail. Jasper sees this out of the corner of his eye, but carries on anyway. "Anyway… Samantha reached out to Harper with the story and Harper wanted confirmation, So… they negotiated a price with my father and he took it, and then … he told them."

James is done. He can play a part, but he is done. "Your father, " James is using his Scotland Yard Voice, the one that concisely detailed facts on the police recording, and made him a favorite with the Crown Prosecutor. "Knowing that you have a job at the Palace and, let's call them ties, to Princess Eleanor Henstridge, 3rd-, 2nd, -somewhere- in line to the Crown of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, your father sold details of your past life to a reporter, for money. Is that right?"

"Yes," Jasper answers, elbows on his knees, still talking to his shoes.

"And you," still in the Yard voice, "when confronted with this, let's call it a set of circumstances. On Christmas Day, you determine that your best course of action is to break off your relationship with Princess Eleanor, leaving her gutted, but free from press speculation. This set of circumstances, as noted, being precipitated, by your father."

"Yes." Jasper manages to sit upright, recognizing a voice of authority when he hears one, no matter his level of exhaustion.

"Right." James exhales heavily, and thinks that the pressure in is jaws might just crack the sub-par British dentistry work in his molars. His own father has been dead for 15 years. In James' personal experience, the acts of fatherhood run in many directions: Good fathers were meant to show up to your primary school concerts unless they were at work – the pub, unless one was behind the bar, was not considered work. Good fathers taught you the off sides rule and packed an extra mouth guard into your rugby bag. Good fathers drilled you on your multiplication tables and swore on the Bible that one day you would use them. Given the appropriate setting, best as James could tell, good fathers stirred two packets of mini-marshmallows and a tub of cottage cheese into strawberry jelly and served it to the bloody Queen of England on Christmas Day. And good fathers, in the unlikely event that they are presented with a reporter knocking on the mobile caravan door asking about a story about one's son, well, good fathers say they have no idea what she's talking about and slam the door, leaving said reporter standing alone in the desert.

Decision made, James stands up. "Right then." His hand is on Jasper's shoulder, there is no question of their not leaving together. " Let's go home, we'll get it sorted." He waves to Sara Alice.

"We'll get it sorted?" Jasper is wrong-footed.

"Yes." James is looking him dead on. "We are going home, and we will sort it. It's fine."

"It's fine? What about this fine?" Jasper is incredulous. "There is literally not one part of this that you, or anyone, can fix."

James looks him dead on, again. "Did you listen to the speech? We ask for help when we need it, and we keep fighting." James begins gathering up the coffee cups and continues, "Which means, that we are going to go home, and you are going to apologize to Eleanor and tell her every detail of the chat you had in the hotel yesterday, and say you're sorry for being a bit of an idiot, but that you had her best interests at heart."

Jasper rolls his eyes. "You're making that sound easy. Also, I'm not an idiot."

"You're a massive idiot. She loves you anyway. Fall on your sword and she will be fine… eventually." James leads the way towards the park entrance. "And then the PR people behind this monarchy can earn their pay, thwarting the aims of a no-name paper in Las Vegas, that no one reads anyway."

Jasper exhales. His shoulders relax for the first time in hours, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay. Eleanor is hurt, he's hurt her… again. He's got a long way to go to make up for his share of her trust issues. She'll forgive him eventually. He knows her.

Sara Alice reappears. She has conquered the monkey-bars and returned with two arms. She pulls a mitten out of her pocket, pulls it on, and then reclaims Jasper's hand. She looks at James, "Can you sort it then?"

James smiles at her. "We can try our best, moppet."

That is good enough for Sara Alice, "Okay then, " she says, squeezing Jasper's hand. "Can we tell Eleanor our 'Happily Ever After'secret now?"

"Maybe not just yet," Jasper tells her, "but soon hopefully."


	2. Chapter 2

You know what would be great? " Liam calls from the doorway. "If the next time the Bodyguard has some kind of mental break and decides to crush the Princess, maybe he could, you know, give the Prince a heads up first."

Jasper sighs. Eleanor has not left her room, and Jasper doesn't have the balls to knock on her door and face her in the daylight anyway. They need to talk, and it's going to be difficult. Jasper has been hiding down in the control room, if anyone asks, he's taking a year end inventory of emergency gear. He didn't see Liam coming on the monitors, which means that James probably ratted him out. Liam has a sixer of beer in each hand, implying that this is not a chance encounter, and that he probably won't be able to get out of it quickly.

"How was your Christmas?" Jasper tries for deflection.

"It started out shitty, and then it got worse." Liam hands him one of the carrier bags, pulls two beers out of the other, opens them both with the ring in his pocket, and hands one to Jasper. "Thanks for asking."

Jasper takes a long pull of beer. "It's cold," he says, a little surprised. "You do know that, that," he indicates towards the bottle opener, "is meant for keys? You don't carry keys."

"I don't drink cold beer either," Liam shrugs, "but you've had a shit day. What did you do to Lenny?" He beckons down the hall with his beer bottle, his air is insistent, but his tone isn't angry. "Come on, let's not do this in a room with guns in it."

Jasper scoffs and removes his own 9mm from his shoulder holster. Reflexively, he checks the safety and then locks it in the gun safe under his desk. If they are drinking, then he's not carrying. An idiot he may be, but even he has boundaries. "Most of these rooms have guns in them," he says. He picks up his designated carrier bag and follows Liam through the tunnels.

They end up on a sand beach along the river. It's quiet, and it's cold outside. The water will muffle their voices, and they are unlikely to be interrupted. They sit down on a rock and Liam pulls out a torch and sticks it into his now empty bottle so they can see. "My Dad was a patron of the Boy Scouts," Liam explains. "So," he continues, "my Christmas blew, but not as much as yours apparently. What. The. Hell?"

"It's complicated."

"Clearly," Liam leans back against the rock. "Would you say that it falls under 'I slept with your Mum complicated', or is it more, 'I'm planning to steal a national treasure complicated'? Because I feel like, bizarre as it sounds, most of us have moved past these things."

Jasper is startled, for the second time today, which he finds pretty irritating. He's a lot of things, but he's not, typically, totally transparent, but Liam definitely knows he's hiding something. Instinct, and 25 years of experience, are telling him to make something up, to just lie, and keep lying, and ultimately to run. This, this life, this family, this girl, this friend…. They are not really his, and they won't be. Ever.

"Let me catch you up with where I am right now," Liam fills in Jasper's silence. "This morning, my sister woke me up at some stupid hour, looking like shit, and saying that you've broken things off with her. You're feeling suffocated, or some such crap." Liam pauses to open another round of beers. "This obviously represents a pretty significant change in tune, given that you've waited her out for months and she was the love of your life at lunchtime yesterday, but okay. My interest is piqued, but Lenny clearly hasn't slept and she is weak on supporting detail. So… then I go to talk to James Hill. He doesn't have much to offer, but when we go through the whole 'it's not really my place to say-technically, you work for me, so it is your place if I say it is' routine, - that routine is getting old, by the way - he says I should ask you about some Las Vegas journalist at the Langham. "

Jasper sees an opportunity. "I _was_ feeling suffocated, and I knew Eleanor would be tied up all day yesterday, so I met a girl at the Langham. Her name's Harper, she's cute." He up-ends his beer bottle. "And afterwards, I thought I should probably be fair to Eleanor, because she seems to have different expectations. So, I told her." There, he thinks. It's done. He'll hit me, and we can be done.

Jasper used to be a solid poker player, but whatever poker face he may have once had, he must have lost, because Liam brushes this explanation off completely, "If that's your story." He's even going to let the 'different expectations" remark go. Instead, he hands Jasper his third beer of the night. "I have an alternative story. I think this Harper person called you because she has dirt on you, or Lenny, or someone…. And you panicked. You broke things off with Lenny to keep her out of the mess. And now you're praying that you can fix it on your own and then somehow convince her that this was all for the best and she should take you back…. Because, you're an idiot."

 _Shit!_ Jasper thinks. What he says is, "I'm not an idiot."

"You're a massive idiot," Liam tells him.

For the first time all evening, Jasper meets Liam's eye. "Are we really gonna do this? Because I don't have a real brother, but if I did, dead or alive, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't go after his ex… So who's the idiot?"

"Yeah…. Well, that's done now. You might not be the only idiot, but you're the only one with a problem we can fix."

"She's going to go back to Robert." This isn't really a question.

"That seems to be her plan, yeah."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

They finish the drinks in their hands, open two more and let the silence grow for a while. Jasper is not surprised when Liam is the first to break it. "Whatever she thinks she has – this Harper girl – we can shut her down."

"You can't," Jasper says flatly.

"Try me," Liam counters.

"She knows everything, about my past, about the damn diamond, about Len and me… all of it."

Liam smirks at him, "as do we. It's not like she can substantiate it. What difference does it make?"

"It's different," Jasper says, "because she has a source that will back most of it up."

"Oh really! A source! Who's she got?" Liam is shaking his head, and counting people on his fingers for emphasis. "Not me, not Lenny, definitely not James… I guess she could try to pay Sara Alice in smarties? She's a bright kid, how much do you think she's worked out?" Liam is not putting things together, possibly it's the beer, and Jasper realizes he's going to have to spell it out.

"No. She has my father…." Maybe the beer is getting to Jasper too, because he shouldn't be saying any of this. It is the exact opposite of his' lie, keep lying, and run' plan. But he's tired, and he's gotten a lot softer over the past 10 months, and the possibility of light is too tempting. James made it seem so fixable this morning….

"Your father, in Nevada, is talking to a reporter about your life here?" Liam is incredulous.

"Yeah. He knows about the diamond plot. He helped finance it, so he's out a lot of money, which means he's mad. Samantha can probably fill in enough holes in the Len piece to make a good story." Jasper tosses the empty bottle he's holding towards the water, misses by a half a yard, and makes a "give-it" gesture towards Liam for the bottle opener. "Harper offered him a price, and he took it."

"That's not…" Liam tries, handing over the bottle ring.

"Out of character? … no… it's not… I just forgot for a little while, that's all. I got used to being here. Which was not smart." The bottle fizzes when the cap comes off.

"That's not what I was going to say. We can…"

"You don't understand. If I …. if there's no relationship, then there is no story… otherwise, in like 48 hours, this girl is going to rip your family wide open. And it's going to be my fault. Once it starts, they're not going to back off, they'll come after James, your Mom, everyone…"

Liam stands up and begins pacing. "Jasper, did you really think that if you told us – Len and me – what was going on that we'd just toss you to the wolves?" He's indignant. "Which one of us was going to be first to say, 'It's been fun mate. Thanks for avenging our father and you know, keeping Lenny alive, practically, and stopping a jewel theft and all the rest, but this press is going to be a bit dicey, so off you go'?" He's standing with his arms crossed, a glare on his face. "God! Seriously?! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Jasper blinks up at him, because, yes, actually, that is what he thought. "It's too much. You don't know my family… I can't ask you" Jasper trails off. This, of course, is the crux of the problem. He doesn't ask for help, ever, because for most of his life there hasn't been any help available, and because he'd much rather never ask than be let down.

"Right, well, you're not asking. I'm just doing. I have a plan." Liam is emphatic. His face is lit by the torch in the bottle, and Jasper can see that he's not going to back down from this. "If Willow can make #kingliam into something out of nothing, she can certainly handle some girl called Harper and your Dad in Nevada." Liam pronounces Nevada the way Eleanor used to, in the same tone he'd use to say 'pond slime'.

Jasper just looks at him, "I think you're underestimating how bad my family will be."

Liam sits back down, and shoves Jasper's shoulder back towards the rock wall, just a little bit harder than he needs to. "Well, you're underestimating _this_ family full stop, so I guess we're even." He's quiet for a minute. "We'll talk to Willow in the morning, yeah? She'll sort it. We'll give her a bit of time to come up with a plan and then we'll tell Mum and Robert. They'll get on board. Lenny too."

Jasper can see some holes in this strategy. For one, the odds of Robert signing on, are minuscule, but it is very, very tempting. And he's tired, of lying. Tired of running, and tired of re-inventing. He's had a few months of normal, of peaceful and happy. He's had a few months of love and it's just so much better.

He doesn't trust himself to say much. Tomorrow, he'll blame the beer. He shoves Liam back. "Yeah, okay." He mumbles.

It's gotten colder. They gather up the empty bottles, and make their way back to the tunnel entrance. Liam sends Willow a text about meeting up in the morning. Jasper wonders what is says about what's going on with the pair of them, that she texts back a confirmation immediately, late at night, on a holiday. He keeps his question to himself.

Liam takes a deep breath, "The reporter stuff we can fix, but there is something else I need to say." They've reached the tunnels, and the air is damp, but warmer that it had been outside. They are leaning against the stone wall, grateful to be out of the chill. "Eleanor doesn't care about your history, she won't hold it against you, and neither will I. But if you let your past screw up your future with her, then that's going to be on you. You can't keep shutting her out."

Jasper nods slowly. He knows that Liam is right. He can't do anything but agree. "Okay," he says.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Sorry for the long delay!** I was not super inspired by episodes 7  & 8 and it took me a while to figure out how to reconcile the ideas in my head with what was happening on the screen. I hope I've gotten it straight now. It will be interesting to see where episode 9 takes us. Thanks to everyone for all the great feedback. I've never done this before, and I"m grateful for your help!

Jasper is standing in front of the double doors leading into Eleanor's bedroom. He's been here before, and didn't go in to her, and it was a big mistake. It would be a bigger mistake now. He's calculating odds in his head. Is he better off knocking first, or just walking in? What if she's asleep? He's sure she's alone – because he checked the cameras before coming up – but she does not like to be woken up. Well… actually, sometimes she does, but he's been away from the Palace for almost a week and a half, and he's good, but not _that_ good. The "kiss her awake" strategy, which has not one time ever stopped at just kissing, and worked great on nights when he'd been out with Liam for longer than he'd planned to be, was definitely not going to work today. She was likely to hit the damn panic button and send him straight back to jail.

He hasn't exactly taken Liam's advice, nor has he followed James's instructions. He's sure that they're both a bit pissed off, but they have way underplayed the Vegas connection. He asked James for a few days of leave, sent Liam a vague text, and is cleaning things up in his own way. Harper will take the deal. He is sure of it. Boone has been helpful – at least as helpful as he ever is. Jasper knows that the man has some kind of soft spot for Eleanor. He might even be a _Jaspenor_ fan, and while Jasper doesn't understand it, he's going to let it go for now. Team Jasper is not a huge group, he will take any allies he can get.

Jasper takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. Eleanor is curled up on one side – her side – of the bed. There is something… a huge cat, some kind of dog, something, sleeping on his side. When the door latch softly clicks shut, it raises its head and looks at him, coolly. Jasper recognizes that it's a fox, but can't for the life of him figure out what it might be doing there. _Great_ , he thinks, _she's branched out into exotic pets. That's just what this Palace needs._

Eleanor stirs under the blankets. Her eyes open and she sees him. She doesn't start, or even seem surprised that he's there. She sits up and raises her arms over her head, stretching. "So what?" She asks him, "Did you miss the sex?" They do have a routine. It's fucked up, but it's theirs.

He smirks, because he knows how he's supposed to answer, "Yeah. Maybe." There is enough light coming through the window that Jasper can see her face. She's going to give him a chance, but just one. He needs to lay all his cards on the table.

He pulls one of the upholstered chairs towards the foot of the bed and sits down. He meets her eye. "I miss all of it," he tells her. "I miss you so goddamn much. I am so sorry. I know that I hurt you, but I can explain it."

"You can explain it?" Her tone doesn't sound like she's very interested in excuses. She climbs out of bed, all graceful long limbs and flyaway hair. The t-shirt she wore to bed covers her, mostly, but Jasper can still feel his pulse pick up. She knows what kind of effect she's having, and she scoffs as she walks past him towards the bar against the far wall. Jasper turns, watching. She takes out two tumblers, fills them with ice, and a generous pour of scotch from a crystal decanter. He thinks this might be a peace offering. He knows that on her own, she'd never choose brown liquor. She only started keeping it in here about the same time she started keeping _him_ in here.

The fox follows her out of the bed, trailing some kind of lead. It stops in front of Jasper, and cocks its red-brown head like it's appraising him. "Who's your new friend?" Jasper asks Eleanor. She walks back towards him, pushes his drink into his hand, and sits in the chair opposite. Her body language isn't exactly welcoming, but she's stayed far away from the button on the wall.

"I don't know. She was here when I went to bed. James mentioned something about Uncle Cyrus letting a fox loose." She puts her hand out and the fox sniffs the air around it before nuzzling her.

Jasper has reached for the gun at his side before he even knows he's doing it. He's not a fan of wildlife, but Eleanor seems to like this creature, she'll be mad if he shoots the bloody thing.

"Settle down, Rambo," she says, almost on cue.

"You walked in on a wild animal in your bed and just decided to curl up with it?" He knows this is a mistake before he's even finished the question.

She cocks her chin, and rolls her eyes. He's walked right into it. "That's worked out for you before," she says.

"Hilarious," he tells her, sitting back in his chair. He takes a sip of his scotch. It's smooth and soothing, and he feels fractionally better for the first time in days. She's hurt, and she's had enough time for the hurt to morph into anger, but she's willing to talk to him. That's good.

Eleanor walks back to the bar and dumps out a glass bowl that's holding cocktail napkins. She fills it with melted water from the ice bucket and carries it towards the door. She opens the double doors and sets the bowl out in the corridor. She walks back to the fox, and picks up its lead. "Come on, you," she says, fondly. "Are you thirsty?" She leads the animal out of the room, gives it a pat, and says, "see you in the morning." She closes the doors behind it and turns to Jasper, "Happy?"

He knows she's not really asking about the fox. "I was. You don't even know how happy I was. And then I got a text from a reporter… from Las Vegas."

Eleanor comes back to her chair and picks her drink back up. She's got her legs curled up under herself, and her eyes are fixed on Jasper's. "Wouldn't be Harper Day, by any chance, would it?" She can see that he's surprised. "She had a scheduled interview the morning of the Gala – was unbelievably nosy, refused to ask a question I wanted to answer, and I told her to see herself out. She'll write whatever rubbish she wants anyway." She takes a large sip of scotch and winces slightly. She really doesn't care for brown liquor. "Nothing about her to give you," she pauses "…. Difficulty breathing."

Jasper knows that he only has one chance to spell all of this out. "I know I screwed up. She called me on Christmas. She knows everything. All about us, all about the diamond, Samantha…. Everything. She threatened to write about all of it. And I panicked. We… you… were in such a good place, and she was going to destroy it. I was never suffocating, I just didn't know what else to do."

Eleanor raises one eyebrow. " Because obviously telling me the truth was out of the question." She takes another big drink, "We ignore bad press all the time around here, Jasper." She's not buying this.

He carries on, "She has an ironclad source to back all of it up. She can come after everyone, you, your Mother, James. I'm trying to protect you!"

She lets out an exasperated snort. "From what, Jasper!? I was… we were… in a good place, I thought a great place… and then _you_ destroyed it. _You_ said I was suffocating you! And now you're here, in the goddamn dead of night, with some tale of an imaginary source you're going to protect me from! Everyone here knows about you. Who is going to talk to her? Has one of my brothers completely lost his mind? Or did she trick Sara Alice into wearing a wire?"

He slams his tumbler down on the coffee table and the ice chinks in the glass. "My Dad," he says. "My Dad is her source…" Jasper's voice trails off and he rakes his hands through his hair.

Eleanor has curled herself into a tight ball in the chair, arms around her knees. "Your Dad," she says softly. Family betrayal is something she understands. "You said you didn't talk to your family. What does he know about anything?"

Jasper shakes his head, "He knows all about me. He has the details of the Koh -I -Noor scheme from Si Cooke. I've known Samantha since we were 14. You don't want to hear it, but there's a lot he could tell, and Harper Day is more than happy to pay him to tell her."

Eleanor just waves her hand idly, likes she trying to push all this disclosure away. "You know I have trust issues, yes?"

"And I've made them worse. That's been established." He's afraid he knows where this is going.

Eleanor needs to move. She walks back towards the bar – again – and returns with the decanter. She refills Jasper's glass, and then her own. "Why didn't you just _tell_ me?"

He doesn't have an answer.

She continues, "I have never, _never_ , held your past against you." It's his turn to raise his eyebrows, because, seriously? She was still holding the whole thing with her mother against him up until, like, a month ago. "Not really!" She amends quickly, watching him. "I haven't, really, for a long time. I don't like it, but I'm over it. What I'm not over, is the fact that you don't trust me."

"It's not that I don't trust you…."he starts.,

"It is, actually." She throws back. "This girl shows up out of nowhere with some bullshit story and instead of trusting me to back you up, you disappear for a week and now you've come up with some shady solution, and here we are!"

He leans forward and reaches for her free hand. "Len… I don't know how to do this. I'm sorry. Just tell me what you want me to say!"

She pulls her hand back. "I don't know what I want you to say." Her face looks defeated and sad.

He starts pacing. "Of course, I trust you! I love you! My father, the people in my past, they are dangerous, bad people. They are not getting anywhere near you. I had to do something!"

Eleanor just stares at him. She's not moving, and she's not saying a word.

He looks at her, wondering how she cannot see this. "What?" He asks.

"You love me?' She's standing behind her chair, holding onto it.

"What? Yes, of course. You know that!"

She moves back to sit down. "You never said that. Last week you were suffocating…"

"Jesus, Eleanor?" _Is she serious? "_ Nothing I said Christmas night was true. I was trying to keep you out of it… because I love you!" He pulls her up from the chair, and this time she doesn't pull away. "I should have said it before, and I'm sorry I didn't. That was dumb…. But I don't have a ton of practice with this." He'd like to add… _I did follow you around the world… And avenge your father…And give up about 6 million dollars. Also, there might be a price on my head in Nevada, and I rescued you from the Russian mob a few weeks ago…. Oh, and there's a better than even chance that I committed treason for you this afternoon…. I thought that 'I love you' was sort of implied!..._ but he doesn't.

She's still silent, standing in front of him. He cups her face with both hands. Her hair smells like her shampoo, a scent he can't really identify, beyond that it's hers. It smells like peace, and safety, and home. "I swear to God, I know I've made a mess of things, but I do love you. I am trying, really , really, hard actually, to love you! To show you that I love you!"

She blinks, twice, and pulls his hands down, but doesn't drop them. "Okay," She sighs. "You love me. I love you, too." She pauses, "Now what?"

He smirks at her again. He's definitely got some ideas. She seems to know precisely what they are because she laughs, and lets go of his hands, pushing him away "Not a chance," she tells him, but she is smiling.

"Worth a shot," he says. They do have a routine…

She sits back down, refills both glasses, and indicates with her chin that he should sit down too. He does, only a little begrudgingly. He knows better than to press his luck… but this is his third scotch, and it _has_ been a week and a half.

"What does James know?" Eleanor asks.

 _Damn,_ he thinks…. He was hoping to keep James out of this. "I talked to him the day after Christmas, and he gave me a few days leave." Jasper is sure that his boss is tracking his phone, so he knows where he's been… and probably who he's been talking to. The only reason James doesn't know what files he put on the flash drive is because the man likes to pretend that he can't turn the computer on.

"He has the broad strokes," Jasper hedges. "Liam does too," he says, anticipating her next query.

She pulls her legs back up to her chest again, curling into the chair like it's a nest. "No way they told you to disappear for a week."

 _Shit!_ "No, they didn't…" he really doesn't want to go down this road.

She's shoots him a look of complete irritation. "Liam told you to tell me and go to PR. Didn't he?" She says, like it's a foregone conclusion. "James, too."

"Maybe," he tries… when in doubt, go with the familiar.

She shakes her head, "you are such an idiot!"

"I am not an idiot", he says. He's starting to think he should get this printed on a T-shirt. It's becoming a frequent refrain. "Liam was going to set up something with Willow…. "

"Yeah," Eleanor scoffs, "that was probably before he pissed her off this evening." She shakes her head. "You're in good company. We have a Palace full of idiots." She empties her glass, and stands up, waiting for him to hand her his. He drains it, and hands it over.

"I'm tired," she announces. She's looking at him, still sitting in the arm chair, like he's waiting for her verdict. "Are you staying?"

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that question is for me?" Looking at her, he thinks that she might, honestly, have some idea.

"We're going public in the morning," she says… "Willow, and …" she frowns, "maybe Rachel… They are going to do whatever it is, exactly, that they do, and we are done hiding. Yes?"

"Yes, " he replies, no hesitation. He inhales, and recognizes that it's the first real breath he's drawn in a week. "I'm all in."

"Good." She pulls him in and kisses his lips, hard. His hands reach around her waist, and he can feel here body relax. He kisses her back, not entirely sure how far she wants to take this. His hands move up to her hair, cupping her head and holding her tighter.

She breaks it off. "Can you stay here and just sleep?' She's got a curious look on her face.

He's not real excited about it, but if those are the rules she's setting up, then yes, he definitely can. Of the two of them, when it comes to impulse control, he's definitely got the upper hand. "It's not my first choice," he tells her, "but yeah, I can just sleep."

She smiles. "Your stuff is still in the vanity drawer." She waves him off towards her ridiculously huge closet. It used to be hidden by the armoire, but since the renovation, it has a proper door. The bathroom is just inside.

His toiletries – razor, toothbrush, etc,. – are all still in the drawer that she'd cleared for him a few weeks ago. They look just the same as they had at Christmas.

He does a very quick 'get ready for bed' routine, which mostly consists of washing his face and rinsing the scotch taste out of his mouth. Eleanor walks past him as he's walking out and brushes her hand against his, on her way to her own bedtime routine, which will be fast, as she's already done it once tonight.

Jasper notices that it's late, as he surveys his side of the bed – most recently occupied by the tameless creature that Eleanor has somehow bonded with. He rolls his eyes, kicks off his shoes, and strips off. He leaves his trousers and shirt in a chair, and leaves the rest of his kit on, playing by the rules. He settles in among her blankets, and tells himself that the slightly gamey smell on the duvet is all in his imagination. It's not.

Eleanor joins him in a few minutes, climbing in on her side, and turning away from him, grabbing at all the covers, and both pillows, like she always does. He smiles to himself, and reaches around her, pulling her and the duvet back to his half of the bed – where they belong. He pulls her into his chest and tucks her head under his chin. "Are we okay?" he asks into the dark…

She doesn't answer as quickly as he'd like, but when she finally does, she says, "Yes. We're okay… after tomorrow, no more secrets."

He knows that she can feel his inhalation. No secrets is a commitment he might not be able to keep, but he is going to try. "No more secrets, " he agrees. "I love you."

She settles herself into his arms. "Of course you do, Jasper…. I love you, too."


End file.
